He sang before he even spoke — Steven Tyler, roaming the Boston hospital halls as daughter Chelsea endured hour after hour of labor, trembling like the pain was his own, whispering “come on, baby girl” with shaking hands, until the piercing cry of her newborn shattered the silence and the rock god who once roared to millions collapsed in tears, covering his face, frozen in awe, and when he finally entered the room to see Chelsea cradling her son, he didn’t speak but sang, a raw lullaby that hushed every nurse and drew their tears as Chelsea whispered, “Dad, you’re crying more than me,” and in that moment Steven Tyler wasn’t Aerosmith’s legend but only a father, a grandfather, pouring song into the very first breath of his grandson